Zim sat in his American History class. All the students were treating it as study hall of course as the purpose of American History was to be ignored until it bit you in the rear. It wasn't supposed to be learned, as demonstrated by the teacher up front sleeping off a hangover. In the room next door he could hear Ms. Bitters (as someone transferred her into hi-skool to fill a sudden job vacancy and no one was asking any questions) teaching her students how X was doomed to be subtracted by Y and then both fated to be divided by Z.
It happened to be one of Gaz's favorite classes, and not because algebra was her favorite subject.
Being reminded of Gaz, Zim turned his attention to the partnership he had just entered into. Zim had never been good at the partners thing and as far as he knew neither had Gaz. Or wanted to be for that matter. But Zim decided he'd better get a head start on this new project. He may not care about the humans around him, they were dirt-beings after all and blissfully stupid, but Gaz was different than any creature he had ever met. If he didn't do his best to make this work, she would doom him real good for the rest of his life. And Gaz would make sure that life was a long one indeed.
Zim reached behind him and pulled a Pad from his PAK. It was really a mini-computer far more sophisticated than anything Earth had ever produced, with a wireless interface direct to the base's computer core. With that he could research this competition more fully. Assuming he could get the computer to stop hogging the bandwidth as it surfed the internet for celebrity gossip.
The alien accessed the remote link and began searches of the game, various versions that ran on differing platforms, competition history, past facilities it was held, equipment rentals, press photos, articles, profiles of previous place holders, and anything else he could think of. As he continued his research, it seemed to be more than a simple competition between people with their GameSlaves as Gaz had suggested. More like an event with over four thousand in attendance. It was almost like a human version of the great assigning back on Irk so many years ago.
A typical team was about five players. The first rounds were between groups assigned randomly using hand held GameSlaves which then posted results to the event database. Then it was on desktop computers networked into an on-site server. The top ten teams then graduated to a virtual cockpit setup for the finals.
Zim began scripting instructions, blueprints and modifications to the base computer as well as the now expanded list that Gaz had given him for Gir to pick up including four items to deliver at lunch. For a hostile invader from another planet bent on conquering the Earth, he had a surprisingly high credit limit. Apparently his computer also liked to dabble in the stock market as a hobby.
If you could name one positive quality Zim had, it was that he threw all he had into a project. It may be ill-conceived, lacking foresight, or just ludicrous, but you couldn't say he ever held back in effort or spirit. Especially spirit.
Dib sat by himself in the cafeteria in his usual place. Next to him was Gaz's, indicated by the carved skull in the empty chair surrounded by the words "PROPERTY OF GAZ." It was empty at the moment. Before him was a tray of either week old gravy or pizza. It was difficult to know which was which. At least his lunch wasn't moving. He heard the heavy clump of steel-toed boots as Gaz came up to join him like she did every day since elementary school.
"So what did you bring for lunch?" Dib asked.
"Beef Stick and crackers. Better safe than sorry," she responded, pointing at the glop before her brother. Sitting down she brought out a small guillotine.
"What's that for?" he asked, wondering if he wanted to know.
"For the Beef Stick, duh," Gaz retorted. She began slicing circles of meat to put on her crackers.
"Where did you get it?"
"Made it last period in metal shop," came the reply.
Gaz was never one for unnecessary conversation. Or people for that matter. Dib returned to contemplating the risk of ingesting his lunch. For some reason he could never remember to bring actual food from home. He decided against his better judgment that he would, figuring his immune system could handle it.
"I'm taking Zim to the CWZ convention in Vegas next weekend."
Naturally Gaz had waited for a good moment, and Dib spewed lunch glop all over the table. "Whaaaa?"
"I'm taking..."
"I heard what you said, I just can't believe you would joke like that while I'm trying to eat this."
Gaz's eyes narrowed even further, if that was even possible. "I asked him this morning and he's agreed. We're going to his base after school to practice."
Dib stammered "But you can't! Gaz, he's an evil alien! You know, planetary conquest, enslave the human race, and everything? He'll probably try to put a mind control probe in your brain!"
Gaz rolled her eyes. "I'll grant that he's an idiot, Dib. But he isn't stupid like the Barbie twins over there. " She nodded in the direction of the twins. They were daintily putting food in their Barbie smiley mouths but it wasn't working as their teeth were still clenched. "So he won't try to pull anything on me. And you know what? Zim didn't choose which planet he was born on and as for Earth, that's just his job as you well know. Besides he's terrible at it.
"You don't have to worry," she continued, "we'll be commuting each day so I'll be home under your paranoid eyeball at night."
They looked over at Zim's table. Except for him and the parts strewn across the surface it was empty, just like every other day. Zim was soldering circuit boards and all manner of high-tech parts into a pair of devices. Blue arcing flashed about the space around him. Dib didn't even bother pointing these things out anymore. The last time he went on a Zim-is-an-alien rant, the students said they knew and that Zim was from Germany or Sweden. Then called him intolerant and threw apple cores. It wouldn't matter if Zim had an entire FTL hyperdrive from an Irken battle cruiser disassembled in the cafeteria, the blind would still not see.
"Dib, look at it this way. If he and I are busy with this competition, he can't take over the planet can he? And I'll be keeping an eye on him. Use the time to follow up on one of your paranormal investigations, or spend some time working with Tak's ship," Gaz tried to reason. The last suggestion was a subtle warning that she would play her trump card if she had to.
Zim had finished, put his tools back in his PAK, and was now walking in their direction. "Now you be nice or else," Gaz told her brother. He merely grunted.
"Gaz-zilla," Zim spoke up as he arrived at their table. "I have something here for starting our mutual project." He pulled out a brand-new GameSlave 4 with a stylized name inscribed in the front casing. GAZ.
Her eyes widened along with her mouth. She was almost drooling. "Where did you get that? They're not due to be released for another year!"
Dib already looked like he was going to object, and Gaz pinched his leg hard. Just a reminder about being civil.
"My computer seems to have made a large investment in the company in my name without my approval, so it owed me a favor and Gir picked up a couple of end-stage prototypes with some other supplies. I have done some research on the competition, and it looks more complex than your brief explanation. Thus I have modified two GS4's with satellite communication units and circuitry from spare Pads, so we may practice the first stage of competing in any spare time you may have. They have been linked to my base's computer core to simulate the conditions of the event. This one is your's Gaz-zilla."
Zim scowled at Dib as he continued. "Unlike normal units, they are password protected and the base computer is covered by security firewalls. I have also included a DNA analyzer set for the Dib-stink. Allow me to demonstrate." With that he tossed the unit to Dib who caught it. He was immediately shocked and fell to the ground.
The green skinned alien walked over to pick up the GS4 and handed it over to Gaz who was jerking in silent laugher. "Thanks Zim, I love it." She was actually impressed by Zim's gesture. She'd have to get a stillshot of Dib being zapped from the hi-skool security cameras for Zim. It was pretty good.
"We still need your GS3, and I have also obtained one for the competition. But I am puzzled by the scheduling. You say it is next weekend, but from press photos I've researched it seems that it usually takes place during your Halloweeny."
Gaz was puzzled. "No, its the same weekend every year. Wait, are you referring to the costumes? That's just cause some people like to dress up in uniform or make-believe fiction for the occasion." She paused, an idea to repay Dib for his earlier remarks coming to mind. It wasn't something she would ever do herself, but it would annoy her brother. "Say, why don't we go as Irken Invaders? You and me. That way you won't have to wear your disguise the whole time."
Zim pretended to ponder the thought for a moment. "Yes, this suggestion has a high Dib-stink irritation value. You have seem to have a great many today, Gaz-zilla." He pulled his Pad out of his PAK and began drafting again.
"Great, give you a lift after school?" Gaz asked, gathering up her lunch supplies. Zim did not trust, nor drive Earth transportation. Part of that was how when he was taking his driver's test to appear "normal," he had accidentally driven the test car into the DMV building. He had been asked never to apply again, and this was the same department that sent driver's licenses in the mail to the legally blind.
"Yes, that is satisfactory. Shall we begin?" He asked putting away the pad and pulling out his own GameSlave 4.
As the two began playing, Dib got up off the floor. He went back to picking at his lunch. This was a battle he knew he couldn't win. All he could hope for was to be the voice of reason for the moment. Unfortunately it seemed that voice was with Gaz right now.